


In the Rubble

by Mazen



Series: War AU [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, War AU, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazen/pseuds/Mazen
Summary: Three lives are changed forever when a young man is sent to fight in the first Gulf War.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé, Raoul de Chagny/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: War AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721920
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will change along the way, but I don't want to spoiler everything yet. 
> 
> Originally begun after getting prompts on tumblr and for Littlelonghairedoutlaw's Rarer Pairs contest, but then it took a life on its own.
> 
> First chapter published as part of Raoulstine Week on tumblr.

"I'm leaving for Iraq tomorrow morning."

The words were out of Raoul's mouth the moment Christine had picked up the phone and he silently cursed himself for being so blunt. But he had been caught off guard too; he'd barely been in the Navy three months when the US joined the Gulf War and only three hours later he was being shipped off to Iraq for Operation Desert Shield. He'd only just turned 18 in May. 

The other end of the phone was quiet, except the initial gasp in response to his words that told him it was in fact Christine on the other end and not her guardian Mrs. Valerius whose voice was hoarse after years of smoking. Christine had a mild and beautiful voice that enchanted everyone. It had kept him afloat these last few months in the Navy; every time she picked up the phone for their weekly call, he instantly would stop clutching the receiver and relax. 

He'd hoped he would get to see her again soon, but instead he was being shipped off to another country for God knows how long. 

"Little Lotte?" He whispered the nickname her father had used when Raoul had first met the Daaés as a plucky 10 year old, jumping into the ocean after an old red scarf to impress the pretty blonde girl who owned it; it had worked and he'd even endeared himself to her father as well. He'd been a part of their tiny family ever since, though Christine had never been like a sister to him; she was the girl he planned to marry one day. 

A shudder sounded from the receiver, the pain in it traveling directly from his ear to his heart. He knew her fear: that he would die, like her father had only six months ago. Raoul missed the old violinist every day. "It will only be for a few months," he assured her with a calmness he didn't quite feel, "the Coalition will quickly stop that bastard Saddam and then I'm coming home for good!"

He hadn't even wanted to join the Navy in the first place. The draft was abandoned in the 1970's which was the only reason that his father had been in the Navy; if Philbert de Chagny hadn't been drafted to the Navy, he wouldn't have insisted that both sons joined as well. His father claimed it was important for men to serve their country and now that Raoul was being shipped off to the Middle East, the old veteran was more proud of his youngest than ever. Raoul didn't dare disappoint him. The fact that Philippe had never been overseas as a marine was still a tender subject in the de Chagny household. 

However, Raoul didn't feel ready for combat. And he certainly wasn't ready to leave Christine. He could hear her sob quietly on the other end and felt more despair than when he'd first been given the order.

"I don't want you to die," she finally managed to say between shuddering breaths, "I love you, Raoul." No matter how often he heard it, those words always made his heart beat faster. He knew that most people thought Christine was lucky to be in a relationship with a wealthy man from a good family, but to Raoul he was the lucky one; Christine was intelligent, beautiful and had the most magnificent voice he'd ever heard. When she finished high school (being a year younger than him), he would use his trust fund to ensure that she got into the best vocal program in the country. Her destiny, besides marrying him, was becoming a singer - a star - and he would do everything possible to make it happen. 

"Don't worry, you won't get rid of me that easily," he joked, though it fell flat. An awkward pause followed. "Before you know it, I'll be back and out of the Navy. You'll finish high school and we'll begin our future. Together." 

"Together," she whispered. It sounded like she'd stopped crying. "Will you write to me every week?" He could picture her smile from the words and imagined the sweet face, he knew so well, with new light in her blue eyes. 

"Every day," he promised truthfully, "they can't stop me!" The Stone that had been sitting in his stomach for the last few hours finally seemed lighter. It would be alright. "I love you, you know that, right?" 

"I know. And I love you." Her voice grew despondent; she knew it was time to say goodbye. "Please be safe, Raoul."

"I always am. Just focus on school until I get home. And you can ask Philippe for help if you need it, okay? I've told him to be there for you and he promised." He'd actually been very strict with his older brother, for once standing up for himself and for Christine. He knew his family didn't approve of their relationship, but he didn't care; if he had to go to war, they better treat her properly. Philippe had accepted this.

"Ok," Christine said hesitantly, obviously not believing that his brother could be nice. He was about to argue when a whistle sounded: it was time to gather outside. 

"Chris, I have to go, but I promise to write all the time and to come home to you in one piece. I will get Philippe to send you the address for the base when I get there, okay?" He said quickly, nodding at his fellow marines as they passed him to go outside. 

"I'll write to you too when I get the address. Take care, Raoul." She was crying again and he was reluctant to hang up. He wanted to flee this base, sweep Christine away to the sea side and live happily ever after. 

But he had responsibilities. _When I get back_ , he told himself. "I will, Little Lotte. Goodbye." He hung up on his crying girlfriend, rubbing his chest as though it would relieve the ache in his heart. 

Somehow, he knew that Iraq would change his life; whether it was for the better or worse was remained to be seen. 


	2. War

When Erik first met Raoul de Chagny, he didn't note anything special about the boy. He was a young lad with a handsome face and short sandy hair, much like many of the other jarheads that came and went through the base.

The only thing standing out about Raoul was that his pretty features never crumbled in fear or disgust when faced with his lieutenant's horrifying visage. Erik would be lying if he said that this wasn't unsettling to him. He was used to the jarheads' reactions when they saw his face for the first time: fear, revulsion, anger, hate. He was allowed to wear a mask at their base, as a way of giving him privacy (and avoiding nauseated marines), but he had to take it off in the field, so everyone could see that he wasn't an enemy. Sadly, seeing his face was enough to make everyone treat him as one. 

But Raoul was different from the start. Because of this, Erik tried to stay away from him as much as possible. Luckily, he wasn't obligated to join the rest of the troops at meals or at leisure time; they didn't need a reminder at every moment of what could happen to them if they were wounded in the field. (They didn't know that his ghastly appearance had been with him since birth.) Therefore, Erik always kept to himself, instead spending his time composing on his violin that he'd gotten permission to bring; he also manufactured new kinds of weapons, traps and gadgets to help them on missions. The captain allowed most of them to be used, but would deny all knowledge of Erik's inventions if questioned. It worked to both their benefits. 

In many ways he preferred inventing instead of being an acting lieutenant as his main responsibility was to command the troops - a difficult task when every marine was repulsed by him. But managing Raoul's platoon was even worse because every time he was with them, he felt the boy's eyes on him. He was used to people scrutinizing his face, but Raoul seemed to measure him as a human instead as a deformed freak. It was disturbing to say the least. The staring didn't even stop when Erik was wearing a mask. While the boy seemed to concentrate on his tasks, his eyes would stray to Erik when there was a free moment - at least that's what Erik felt. But the worst was that the boy tried to intercept him, attempting to small talk. 

After two months as Raoul's superior, Erik was ready to ask for a transfer. However, everything changed one fateful Saturday morning as he went on a simple recon mission in a nearby village with Raoul's platoon. They'd talked to local merchants from the village many times and observed the comings and goings when scouting for Iraqi troops in the area, but they'd never found a reason for exploring the small community. 

Erik was aware that it was to keep the troops occupied; they had advanced several times through the desert, but still hadn't met any enemy forces. They had now been told to stay put at the base and it made the jarheads restless. A pointless mission was better than sitting still. However, they quickly noticed the strange glances from the villagers as they went through the small streets, even that early in the morning. 

It was sheer luck that no one from the platoon was killed when they breached through the designated and supposedly empty warehouse; eight men, most of them young, started firing the moment they knocked open the door. He wondered if some of their luck was due to the shock of his face because he'd heard a shared gasp from their assailants as they entered the building, hesitating briefly, before they'd fired at the soldiers.

He ordered the jarheads to seek cover and bring out the teargas. In only a quarter of an hour they managed to take down each of the men, killing six. The last two were injured and he called for backup and an extra medic team to aid the hostages who were patted down in case they had more weapons; they didn’t. 

The platoon settled in the main hall of the building only occupied by old, ruined furniture and a few dozen old barrels. Further into the building was a large room with hundreds of crates stacked, reminding Erik of the end of The Raiders of the Lost Ark; he decided to leave the contents of the crates a mystery until backup had arrived. At the other side of the room he spotted a staircase. 

He should've waited until back up had arrived before continuing through the building. Instead, he tasked a few soldiers to cover the bodies of the dead enemies, others to tend to the wounded and the rest - Raoul not one of them - he ordered to search the building. He split them into teams to search each floor, personally staying by the staircase as stand by if a team needed assistance, though he doubted it. 

As expected, the jarheads followed his orders without question them. However, Raoul chose to completely disregard the order to respectfully cover up the bodies; the boy began moving several crates around in the storage space. The kid disappeared into a maze of them, forcing Erik to go after him - the young soldier being his responsibility. 

It was the blatant disregard for a superior's orders that saved Erik’s life, as well as Raoul’s. Erik heard a soldier in his walkie talkie cursing a wire, then a loud click that would echo in his ears for years to come. The explosion was more forgettable; whatever it was his mind blocking out the tragedy or if he was knocked out too fast to remember, he never remembered to have heard the explosion. 

* * *

When he woke up, it was dark and dusty. His usual cold frame was covered in warmth. It reminded him of the time he was a child and ran away from his third foster home. He'd sought shelter in an old barn with cows who, unlike his fellow humans, welcomed him. He'd slept between the cows several days before he was discovered; it was the most contact he'd ever had with another living being.

He was shocked to discover that he wasn't having a flashback or reliving the best moments of his life before he died. Instead, he found that the warmth came from a young jarhead. When a familiar baritone voice asked him if he was feeling alright, he realized that he was lying with his back to Raoul's front and his legs between Raoul's. Though his shoulders were broader than the young soldier's, he laid there comfortably, considering the fact that he had survived an explosion. 

He hummed in response to the boy's question while trying to discern how he was actually feeling. It took him a few moments to feel anything but the heat from the other man. "I'm glad," Raoul said in obvious relief. "I haven't heard any other survivors…" He trailed off, clearly distraught. He was worried about his friends, most of them probably dead. And it was Erik's fault. He should've waited for backup like it was protocol instead of rushing through the building. Raoul was the only reason that he was alive at all. 

"How is your head?" Raoul asked again and Erik lifted a heavy hand to feel for anything. He winced as he touched a wound on the left side of his head, approximately two inches long, but luckily less than half an inch deep. The blood was beginning to coagulate. "I apologize for the awkward position, I mean, I know you don't like to be close to others, but I wanted to hold your head high to keep the blood from rushing out, I think that's what you're supposed to do, but I don't remember the emergency help seminar we had, so I-"

The boy was babbling, clearly in some state of shock. The best Erik could do was lead his thoughts away from the situation and he grabbed the first thing that came to mind. "You think I don't like to be close to others?" He interrupted the boy who quieted instantly. It wasn't that his assumption was wrong; Erik wasn't comfortable around others and did what he could to avoid people, but he'd always found that the feeling was mutual. 

They sat in silence for a while and Erik wondered if Raoul really had gone into shock, but finally he moved a little, seemingly uncomfortable. Erik attempted to move away from him, but his body felt too heavy at the moment. Raoul lay a hand on his thigh for a moment to still him, before pulling it away. "Well, you're always avoiding everyone and seem to cringe whenever someone tries to talk to you about something not work-related. Especially me." Erik almost heard a little pout in his voice as he said the last part and he found it strangely endearing.

Erik paused before answering, trying to figure out how to phrase his discomfort around him. "I... have not lived a life that has taught me how to handle people. While I know how to be a soldier, I don't know how to be a man, and it disturbs me when someone - like you - tries to talk to me like one. The others avoid me, however you do not." It was jarring to reveal such private thoughts to another, but he didn't have much to lose. Chances of them getting out of this situation were slim; he might as well unburden himself while distracting the boy from realizing their fate. "I don't understand why you care to engage with me."

The other man hummed slightly behind him. "I don't know myself... I guess you remind me of my girlfriend." Raoul started to search his inner pocket for something, shifting Erik a bit to the side to reach it. After a moment he withdrew a thin wallet with pictures. "She always seems to be somewhere else in her own world. People call her ditsy, but you just have to reach her." Flipping through pictures of his parents and a much older brother, he finally found a picture of himself. His sandy hair was longer and in a ponytail, before getting the army buzz-cut. He even had a small mustache which made Erik cringe inward - how tacky. 

But next to him in the picture stood a beautiful young woman. Her hair was golden, reaching her waist. Her skin was pale which only enhanced the sea blue of her eyes. Despite looking at the camera, he noticed the faraway look in her eyes as Raoul had mentioned. It intrigued him. "She's incredibly intelligent, compassionate and has the voice of an angel.” Erik stared at the picture of the perfect couple, a longing rising inside him; it must be wonderful to have someone else, to be loved by another human, like this Christine was loved by Raoul who still talked about her: “I hate to have left her all alone back home. Her father had recently passed, so she has no one except me and a guardian. I feel like it’s my responsibility to take care of her."

Raoul tugged the photo wallet away in his pocket again. "I guess I have a small messiah complex, like my brother says. I want to save everyone." He laughed, at first sarcastically, then more genuine. It was infectious and reluctantly, Erik began to laugh as well. He knew that they were likely running out of oxygen in their grave of rubble, that their laughter only was a sign of it, but he did not care. There could be worse ways to go out, he figured.

"Some people can't be saved." Erik said solemnly when he finally stopped laughing. "I have always been one of them. That's why my mother never dared to grant me a kiss." He felt a stab in his heart as he remembered her

Raoul quieted instantly, his breathing slightly erratic, struggling to get enough. "She never kissed you?" He said incredulously, moving Erik to the side, so they could finally see each other. Erik shook his head in response, feeling light-headed. They would only have minutes before falling unconscious. "Have you ever been kissed?" Raoul asked with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Not even by a nanny or...?" Erik shrugged at him with an exasperated look in his eyes; surely, the boy could understand, looking into his corpse-like face, why no one had ever wished to kiss him.

He didn't wish to speak about the subject, well aware that in a few moments he would die without having been kissed by another human. He fought against the tears filling his eyes, nearly convincing himself that it was because of the lack of oxygen. He was so caught up in his head that he didn't even realize what Raoul was doing before he felt warm lips against the saggy skin on his forehead, causing a fierce shiver to run through his body. He stared at the boy with bewilderment as he pulled back, but Raoul just smiled before lowering his lips to a sunken cheek, surely tasting the tears that fell from Erik's eyes.

Before he could stop what was happening, Raoul's lips had traveled to his mouth and kissed him tenderly. Erik reached a hand up to grip his neck, but instead of pulling him away, Erik drew him closer, kissing the other man back with a passion he usually only let out in his compositions - the only outlet he had. But Raoul's lips were so inviting, lighting a spark in Erik’s body that he'd thought had been extinguished long ago. He gasped slightly when Raoul licked at the seams of his thin lips and Raoul took the opportunity to dip his tongue inside.

It was impossible for Erik to contain the feelings it created in his body, along with the dizzying headache from the oxygen deprivation. He pulled back, trying to catch his breath; a useless endeavor because they were running out of air. Raoul lifted his hand to his lips, a smile in his eyes before closing them. "That was... nice." He muttered, clearly fighting against the void that was going to take them both. 

Erik didn't have time to contemplate the words or Raoul passing out because at that moment he heard muffled voices on the other side of the left wall. Sitting up, ignoring the pain in his ribs, he began to pound his fists against the wall of rubble, screaming for help. "Hello! We're here! Here!" He kept at it until even his voice failed him and his limbs grew too heavy.

The last thing he saw before passing out was light hitting Raoul's handsome face as the rescue crew dug through to them.


	3. Beginning

When Erik came to, he was lying in a hospital bed. Curtains were drawn to provide him privacy, though he quickly gathered that it was probably to spare everyone from seeing his face. A hospital had enough horrors; there was no need to expose anyone to his horrific mug in the bright fluorescent light.

He couldn’t remember how he came to be here. To his surprise his right leg was in a cast, though he couldn’t recall breaking it. He tried to sit up to examine the cast, but stopped and hissed as the ribs in his left side smarted. 

“You’re awake!” A voice from behind him made him sit up, despite the pain, ready to defend himself if needed. That’s when a pretty face he seemed to know so well came into view; the kind eyes and tender smile jogged Erik’s memory: warehouse, attack, explosion, Raoul… Raoul kissing him. Erik’s vision began to blackened and gentle hands guided him to lie back down.

“Sorry for startling you, it wasn’t my intention.” Erik turned his head towards Raoul’s voice, now seeing the chair just out of his peripheral vision where the boy must’ve been sitting. Waiting here for God knows how long for Erik to wake up? No, that couldn’t be.

“You have a pretty bad concussion on top of your broken leg and ribs. Your head needed 19 stitches! That’s wild if you ask me. I only got some scrapes, not that I’m complaining, but scars after stitches look so cool, you know?” The boy was babbling; Erik remembered he’d done that too in the little sanctuary of rubble they’d survived in.

“The men…” Erik mumbled, trying to focus on other things than Raoul’s pointless chattering. “Did anyone else survive?” The handsome face in front of him frowned and looked away; it told Erik everything. There was no need for words and he could see the survivor’s guilt darken the bright eyes - a guilt he would probably have to face as well at some point. 

The least he could do was ease Raoul’s pain a little. “You disregarded my order, you know,” his words soft and kind, “it saved our lives. If you’d followed my order, we would both be dead. Thank you for saving my life.” Erik didn’t mention that his life hadn’t been worth saving, unlike the lives of the rest of the men in his platoon which was now dead; Raoul had no reason to hear this. That burden was only Erik’s as he had been the one who had led the men to their deaths by not waiting for backup and a bomb squad.

The cogs in his mind started churning as he thought of all the things he could’ve done differently and saved everyone’s lives when a soft hand came to rest on his. “I’m glad you survived.” He looked up to see Raoul staring at him with a smile in his eyes. His stomach fluttered and he knew it wasn’t because of his injuries. His gaze lowered to the full lips that had kissed him, a tingling traveling over his body as he remembered the sensation.

Why had the boy kissed him? Him of all people, why choose a hideous monster, especially when he had an incredibly beautiful girlfriend waiting for him at home? Then he realized it: pity. That’s what it was. He’d been dumb enough to tell a young lad who had never experienced anything but love and acceptance that he hadn’t been kissed. Of course the boy had pitied him, swallowing his disgust long enough to kiss the corpse, so he wouldn’t die without experiencing a normal human touch.

Anger filled him by the thought of being pitied, but before he could say anything, the curtain across from Raoul was pulled to the side. It was an army doctor with a curious expression on his face; his eyes shifted uneasily over Erik’s features before turning to Raoul. 

“I need to speak with the lieutenant in private,” he stated, unspokenly commanding him to leave and Raoul did so without hesitation.

After a long talk from the doctor who kept staring not so subtly at his face, Erik was left alone, reeling from the load of information he’d been given: he had to stay a few more days at the hospital until they felt confident that the swelling in his brain would continue to subside. However, he wouldn’t be allowed in the field for at least six months due to his broken leg which luckily had been a somewhat clean break. He’d be permitted to work at the base when his leg had healed in six weeks time. The doctor had offered him to fly home which he’d immediately declined; he had no one there.

Afterwards he was visited by the lieutenant commander, along with the man who was only known as ‘the Daroga’, a former police chief who’d joined the Coalition in secret. He knew the language well and worked as a translator, but Erik had heard rumours that he had a tendency to spy on the locals and report back to the Coalition unofficially. Perhaps he was the reason his platoon had been sent on the mission in the first place. Otherwise, why would he be here? 

“Erik,” the lieutenant commander said cheerfully, “it’s good to see you awake and looking… ah… well.” He looked anywhere but at Erik’s face; one would’ve thought that a high-ranking naval officer could handle a death’s head. The Daroga didn’t flinch as he looked directly at him; it gained him some of Erik's respect.

“As you must’ve heard from Private…” the lieutenant commander looked down at a note in his right hand, “de Chaney,” - completely mispronounced - “the rest of the platoon was killed by an explosion. After a brief investigation we’ve discovered that the episode was caused by hidden explosives on the body of one of your surviving captives; when these explosives were set off, they ignited several barrel bombs that damaged the building’s structure enough to make it collapse, thus killing everyone in it. Except you and the private, of course.”

Erik thought his superior’s words through carefully as he tried to remember what had happened. “But I heard the click of a bomb activating in one of the walkies,” he exclaimed, loud enough to make the lieutenant commander stagger and worsen his own headache. “And the captives were patted down; we would’ve uncovered the explosives.”

“I assure you this is what happened,” his superior established with a tone that left no room for argument. “Daroga, perhaps you would care to explain it?” He gestured to the other man who’d only observed their interaction up till now and looked extremely uncomfortable being called out.

“Several messages intercepted over radio confirm this, as well as the remains of explosives found on site near the captives’ bodies.” The dark-skinned man confirmed, looking straight into Erik’s eyes with an intensity that told him there was no use in arguing; someone had decided this was the cause of the marines’ deaths.

“Yes,” the lieutenant commander stuttered slightly, “so no one’s to blame for this unfortunate accident, except for the men who attacked you. It was lucky that you, Erik, and private…” he looked at the note again, “Chaney survived.” Erik rolled his eyes without subtlety, but his superior didn’t notice because he was still looking anywhere but at Erik’s face. The Daroga looked just as exasperated with him.

“We will need your statement, so please write down every detail you remember,” the lieutenant commander gave him a standard form to fill out. Erik had a feeling that nothing he wrote would make any difference, but his sense of duty and respect for the dead men persuaded him to add everything, including his assumption that a bomb had been set off.

“We look forward to seeing you back on base. I understand that you’ve decided to return as soon as you’re released?” The lieutenant commander asked hopefully. He knew what an asset Erik was, even out of the field. Erik nodded in response, having no interest in continuing this conversation which his superior luckily perceived. He said his goodbyes and left with the Daroga. The latter eyed Erik for several moments before closing the curtain.

Erik was starting to feel exhausted, possibly due to the concussion, but forced himself to start on his statement. He rarely slept for more than a few hours and saw no need to start now. However, he unavoidably began to drift off after a while and right before he fell asleep he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had hoped Raoul would return.

It was dark when he woke again, but a small light by the end of his bed, where his medical journal was kept, lit the room just enough to let him notice the young man in the chair next to his bed. Bright, but tired blue eyes lit up when Raoul noticed that he was awake. 

"Hi. I was- was just making sure that you wouldn't get lonely in here," he mumbled and blushed, his gaze fleeting to the book in his hands: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.

“I see you’re reading one of the obligatory military literal works,” Erik’s voice was hoarse and Raoul hurried to bring him the glass of water on the bedside table as though he wasn’t capable of reaching for it himself. “Thanks, but I’m not helpless.” Erik grumbled before taking a sip.

“Nothing wrong to have a little help anyway,” Raoul responded, but let Erik take the glass and sat back down, the book forgotten on the table. Erik’s eyes flicked over the handsome features, the full lips that had kissed him in their shelter of rubble, and wished he could experience that again. More than that though, he wanted Raoul to keep him company; a new experience for him.

“Don’t let the lieutenant commander see you reading that. He despises it.” Erik nodded to the book, attempting to keep the conversation going. For once he wished he was good at small talk. “Though I don’t think he’s even read it. He’s not much of a reader.”

“Neither am I,” Raoul admitted with a little embarrassed chuckle. “My father gave me this before I left, but I haven’t even gotten one third into it. Instead I end up reading my girlfriend’s letters over and over.” The mention of his girlfriend made Erik tense up; he realized he’d been admiring the young man’s plump lips while he spoke, but those lips belonged to another. He’d only been granted a taste because Raoul pitied him.

Raoul was eyeing him now, gauging his mood and clearly affected by the sudden tension, but Erik couldn’t meet his gaze. He wondered if Raoul even knew why he’d reacted that way to the mention of the beautiful girlfriend waiting back home. Did he know how he affected Erik, how his stare without disgust and his kindness had broken down Erik’s walls even before they had kissed? That he'd followed Raoul in between the crates in the warehouse because he had, ironically, wanted to keep him safe? 

The silence seemed deafening until Raoul finally broke it. “I ended my relationship with Christine today.” At this Erik snapped his eyes up to connect with Raoul’s, silently begging him to explain why; why would anyone break up with such an angel? “After the explosion… I cannot bear to know that she’s waiting for me at home when I might not even come home. I could’ve died… It’s only been a year since she lost her father. My death might finally… break her.”

Erik couldn’t claim to understand. He had no one who cared for whether he lived or died. But he believed Raoul; his actions were noble and unselfish, sparring his girlfriend of the pain of losing him if he should die in battle.

“But there’s another reason why I broke up with her,” Raoul continued, lowering his eyes to a bandage on his arm that only half covered a bad scrape. Erik sat straight up, hoping that Raoul would tell him what the other reason was, hoping so badly that it had something to do with him. “I don’t know if you remembered what happened before we were rescued-”

“You kissed me,” Erik interrupted. “Because you didn’t want me to die without having been kissed. You pitied me.”

Raoul huffed, getting up to stand right by the bed. “I did kiss you, but it wasn’t out of pity. I wanted to. I have for a long time.”

Erik was about to retort, tell him how ridiculous that sounded, but then he noticed Raoul’s eyes were looking at Erik’s mouth, his pupils blown; he leaned in and caught Erik’s thin lips, pressing firmly against them. He gasped, but Raoul continued the kiss, burning through each wall that had been put up to protect Erik's shrivelled-up heart. But now his heart beat again, faster than ever, because of this young man who kissed the beast and awoke the man inside.

Erik’s hands lifted to grip Raoul's shirt and pulled him closer, so their chests were almost flush against each other. Raoul moaned in response and reached for the tiny, sensitive hairs at Erik’s neck, caressing the greyish, scarred skin. Erik’s body responded, desperate for a touch he’d never felt before.

He’d never imagined that he could be attracted to another man - to anyone really - but he knew that he wanted Raoul, body and soul, or whatever Raoul would allow him to have.

It was clear that they needed to talk about several things, like the fact that he was Raoul's superior, but right now he could only think about the lips against his own.

A stab of pain suddenly surged through his head, forcing him to break their kiss and fall back in the bed with a hand to his head. Raoul instantly understood, reaching for a tiny cup of pills at the bedside table. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. You’re injured.” Erik accepted the pills, drinking them down with the last water.

“Don’t be sorry. You don’t know what you’ve given me.” He said seriously, earning him a brilliant smile from Raoul. “Stay with me?” Erik had rarely felt this vulnerable in his life, but for some reason he felt safe to be so with Raoul.

“Of course,” Raoul sat back down, but scooted the chair closer to the bed. “Maybe you can give me a summary of Catch-22, so I can pretend I’ve read it?” Erik chuckled, glad that he didn’t have to be alone. 

Despite his headache, he didn’t feel tired at all and Raoul seemed well rested as well, so they spent the rest of the night talking about Catch-22, other books about war, about their experiences in the army and even the home they had left behind. Erik had never felt so close to another person.

None of them knew what the future held, but Erik hoped he could keep this feeling a little longer.


End file.
